


burned but not buried this time

by lazy_universes



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Multi, at this point i don't even know anymore this is just really sad, tw abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29718204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazy_universes/pseuds/lazy_universes
Summary: “Tell me this is not true,” Alina Starkov said, brown eyes wide and afraid, red-rimmed and open in a way Zoya could scarcely allow herself to be. If she blinked, she could be nineteen again, madly in love with a monster and seething in jealousy of a girl doomed to a fate she could never quite comprehend. “Tell me I’m going crazy.”Ever since they had last parted ways, much had changed - Alina had become a saint, a myth, something larger than life; Zoya, too, had become something other than herself, the stuff of nightmares for their enemies and begrudging respect for their allies. But at that moment, they were neither. They were what they had always been - two girls twisted open and broken apart by the same pair of hands.Zoya licked her lips and slowly, softly, shook her head.Alina fell to her knees.And howled.(In which the Darkling's return forces Zoya Nazyalenski to face the things she would rather forget.)
Relationships: Mal Oretsev/Alina Starkov, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54





	burned but not buried this time

**Author's Note:**

> i've been sitting on this story ever since i finished KoS and I was unsure if I should show it the light of day. The S&B trailer made the call for me. We as a community don't say fuck the darkling enough me thinks 
> 
> this was not beta'ed and i'm not sure if this is going to be up for long 
> 
> TW ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP WITH A MINOR please don't say i didn't warn you. many of the things described were plucked from my own experience. i've met some shitty people, it's what i'm saying.

_tell her to run to me_

_I have already unscrewed_

_my front door off its frame_

_opened all the windows_

_inside there's a warm bath running_

_she does not need your kind of love_

_I am proof she will get out_

_and find her way back to herself_

_if I could survive you_

_so will she_

Rupi Kaur

  
  
  
  


_I'm not beat up by this yet_

_You can't tell me to regret_

_Been in the dark since the day we met_

_Fire, help me to forget_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


She knew it would happen as soon as she saw him. 

She knew it as soon as she saw amusement dancing on the Darkling’s face, as she felt his eyes boring holes on her back. It was a heavy weight to bear, and many had shriveled and cowered beneath his gaze; that much she remembered. As she kept her head high, lips pursed, power crackling at her fingers, she thought of Os Alta, of a Ravka shattered and a pain she thought she had weeded out only to have it threaten to overcome her again. She thought of the girl she had been, once, and the woman she had become. _I am Commander Nazyalensky_ , she repeated to herself, lips pursed, his gaze heavy on the sharp set of her shoulders. _I am a general. I am a member of the Triumvirate. I am the Storm Witch. I am the Fjerdan Nightmare. All these things are mine and none of them he gave to me. It was my blood on the snow. He can hang._

All of it was true, yes. But that didn’t change the fact that she _knew_ . She waited for it as soon as she stepped in Os Alta, and as they shoved the Darkling inside a cell deep beneath the Little Palace, gagged and cuffed to the wall, she waited for it then too. As they spent the night arguing in the war room about what to do _next_ , she was still waiting for it. 

So when, in the early hours of the morning, the door to the war room was bust open by a hooded figure, she wasn’t surprised. While the rest scrambled to their feet, trying to protect Nikolai and themselves, Zoya stood slowly, straightening her kefta, and no surprise crossed her face when the hooded figure marched straight to her and, in one swoop, pulled the hood off of her head, long white hair tumbling down to her waist, sunlight dancing on her fingertips. 

“Tell me this is not true,” Alina Starkov said, brown eyes wide and afraid, red-rimmed and open in a way Zoya could scarcely allow herself to be. If she blinked, she could be nineteen again, madly in love with a monster and seething in jealousy of a girl doomed to a fate she could never quite comprehend. “Tell me I’m going crazy.” 

Ever since they had last parted ways, much had changed - Alina had become a saint, a myth, something larger than life; Zoya, too, had become something other than herself, the stuff of nightmares for their enemies and begrudging respect for their allies. But at that moment, they were neither. They were what they had always been - two girls twisted open and broken apart by the same pair of hands. 

Zoya licked her lips and slowly, softly, shook her head. 

Alina fell to her knees.

And _howled_. 

  
  
  


“Do I want to know _how_ you knew Alina would come to Os Alta?” 

“I had a feeling,” she answered vaguely as she set the sleeping drought on Nikolai’s bedside table. The monster might’ve receded, but they were close enough to the Darkling not to risk any mishaps. It was better to dose him every night, keep him chained to the bed as before. Disheartening, to say the least - she had dared hope this whole endeavor would no longer be necessary, and she hated herself for enjoying the brief proximity nonetheless. 

At least there were no worries about Ehri wondering if her husband-to-be was cheating on her even before they got married. As far as the Shu princess was concerned, Nikolai and Ravka could all burn. 

“A feeling,” Nikolai said, raising an eyebrow. 

“A theory,” she backtracked. “If the Darkling’s powers have- well,” she shook her head and cleared her throat, the wound too raw for her to be able to say the words out loud. “Alina could probably have recovered hers too. They were tied in ways I cannot comprehend. And if she did-”

“She would make her way straight to Os Alta as soon as she realized it,” Nikolai conceded, pushing his hair away from his face. “That is all well and good. I too would think comforting to see my face in times of distress,” Zoya rolled her eyes, and the corners of his lips tilted up for a moment - small, present, soft in ways not many people were privy to. Her heart clenched in her chest, and she averted her eyes. “But why come to _you_?” 

Zoya seldom found herself at loss for words. There weren’t many people who could talk back to her these days; the few that did and were willing to do it - namely, Nikolai - got as good as they gave. Her sharp tongue was as much a part of herself as her impossible beauty, and she took pride in it as much as she did with her powers. But there was something about the Darkling, of her time under his thumb, that was not meant to be said. If it was, it would be met with disbelief. _No one would believe you,_ his voice whispered in her ear, and she knew it to be true, knew it as sure as she knew the sun would rise in the morning and set in the evening. 

The words wouldn’t make their way out of her throat. And even if they clawed their way out, her teeth were clenched so tightly she didn’t think a single sound could get past them. It had always been like this - even back when her love hadn’t been tainted by hate and disgust. She had tried to tell Liliana, once, and the words just simply would not obey her, slipping out of her grasp and burying deep inside her heart. 

The Darkling had twisted all of them, true - Nikolai and his monster, Genya and her scars, Adrik and his arm - but there was something about what he did to Zoya, something intangible, that seemed beyond explanation, outside of the realm of speech. Sometimes, she half wished he had left her with _something_ , a scar, a shadow, whatever his twisted mind could concoct, just so she wouldn’t be left with the lingering fear she had made half her memories up. When she was younger, she had believed it to be _his_ doing, his own treacherous magic clamping her mouth shut so she wouldn’t spill his secrets all over Ravka, half-mad with her inevitably broken heart. And who would have believed her, then? Who would believe her, still? 

Alina had. And Alina would. 

Because there were no words needed, no explanation necessary, between two people who have witnessed and suffered through the same horror. At a certain point, after the Darkling’s fog had lifted, they had been able to truly see each other for the first time and recognize in each other the invisible scar he had left behind. 

“I am renowned for my tact and kindness,” Zoya said dryly, hoping that Nikolai wouldn’t catch the flutter of her pulse on her neck and the trembling of her fingers. “Maybe she needed a shoulder to cry on.”

Nikolai laughed, then - the sound blooming out of his chest like he wasn’t a man walking to the gallows, bright and warm as the summer sun. She thought, stupidly, that it would be impossible to ever grow cold by Nikolai’s side.

“She’d be safer cuddling with a three-headed tiger,” he said. 

“You are in an awfully good mood for a King who nearly got murdered,” she said sourly, and was half-proud and half-ashamed when she saw him deflate, his mouth flattening to a thin line. Izaak was on his mind, she knew - knowing all of his soldiers meant that each loss felt personal. She wished she didn’t get it, but she thought of Nina in the frozen depths of the hell called Fjerda and shuddered. 

“Attempted assassination does wonders for a bit of life perspective,” he said, and rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking as weary as she felt. “I might have a plan in the morning, if the Darkling would at _least_ give me the courtesy of a good night of sleep.”

“Not sleep,” she muttered, looking at the small vial on his nightstand, and he smiled again - still soft, but sadder this time. “And he’s not one for niceties.”

“But that’s basic etiquette. There’s absolutely nothing about etiquette that could be considered nice, Zoya dear. Which reminds me,” he said, finally sitting on the bed and leaning back on the headboard. Zoya took the cue, and set to pull the shackles out of their case. “I think you should sleep in my apartments from now on.”

“I should _what_ , now?” She hissed, hands gripping the heavy shackles tightly. If she had less control over herself, she might’ve dropped it. 

“I do adore seeing your face every morning. And if-” He paused, clearing his throat, and looked out the window, to the sun setting over the lake and the darkening blue of the Ravkan sky. “Should anything happen-”

 _I’m the only one who has a shot of stopping you_ , she completed in her head. Her grip on the shackles was so tight, it dug welts of angry red valleys on her fingers. She swallowed, avoiding his gaze like the plague. All of her body wanted to say _no_ \- to stand up and march out of that wretched place and into her own rooms and be left alone. 

But Nikolai was right. With the Darkling around, it was anybody’s guess on how the monster would behave; if it came to it, she would be the one best equipped to deal with him. Her eyes fell to the fetters on her wrists, a stark reminder of the power that had made a home inside her bones. She was no longer a teenager desperate for crumbs of love. 

And when she looked at Nikolai, she didn’t see desire, hunger, or even anger. She saw loneliness. And she saw fear. 

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “I suppose I’ll have to take your bed for the trouble you’re putting me through.” 

“It is big enough to share,” he teased, clearly relieved by the way his shoulders had eased. 

“Absolutely not,” she said, stepping closer to fasten the shackles on his wrists. “You can sleep in the bathtub, for all I care.” 

“Ruthless, ruthless Zoya,” he muttered, catching her wrist with his free hand before she could fasten it. His lips brushed her pulse point so softly, it might’ve been a dream. “Thank you.” 

“Let’s see if you’ll still thank me after spending a night in the bathtub,” she said, but smiled anyways. 

  
  
  
  


She found Alina sitting by the lake the next morning, hair hidden by the hood of her cape. Zoya sat by her side in silence, elbows pressing on her knees. They stood like that for what seemed like ages, millennia even - watching the sun casting silver and gold on the deceptively still waters, the eerie silence of the Little Palace settling strangely on her spine. Every once in a while, a ray of sunshine would bend just so, just an inch on the side of the natural, and Alina would grimace as if in pain. 

“The silence is creeping me out,” Alina said, finally. Her eyes were swollen and red - no one, Nikolai aside, had managed a good night of sleep. 

_Not sleep,_ her mind provided, remembering the unnatural stillness of his body as she carefully watched the minute shift of his chest as he breathed; the undeniable proof of his life. Never sleep. A temporary death, more like it, one she was forced to witness every night and every morning. Sometimes, she’d wake up in the middle of the night, a scream half-caught in her throat, flailing away from a dream where it was morning, and Nikolai would not wake up. 

“The students should’ve been back today,” Zoya said. “In light of recent events-”

“Yeah, no, keep them _away_ ,” Alina scoffed, leaning back on her elbows to lay down on the grass, stretching her legs. She twisted her feet, cracking the bones of her ankles. Years later and the sound of it was enough to make Zoya grit her teeth. “Though I do believe a couple of Sun Summoners will be very confused on why their power has suddenly gone missing.”

“You think so?”

“I’m almost sure,” Alina said, shivering. “I’m- I still don’t have all of it. But I can feel it coming back.”

“Which means _his_ power is also getting stronger,” Zoya said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Great. Should’ve gone for kvass instead of coffee for breakfast.” 

Alina snorted - a rather undignified sound for the Sun Saint. But then again, there were no saints or witches there. There was only Zoya and Alina, two young women who had seen far too much for their years, and who were still trying to carve a place in this strange world they found themselves thrown in. 

“Did you go see him?” Zoya asked. “Tolya would’ve taken you.”

“Hmm,” Alina hummed, eyes fixed on the soft rippling of the water as the early morning breeze went across the lake. “I thought about it. When I came here I wanted- I don’t know. Burst into his cell. Stab him again. Try to see if he regretted _something_.”

“That would be futile,” Zoya said dryly. 

“And that’s why I stayed in my room,” Alina shrugged. “Every time I thought I had the upper hand, he’d throw me off balance. Why would it be different now? He might not have all of his power, but he still has his mind.”

Zoya said nothing, and Alina let herself fall fully on her back, eyes to the sky. She patted the grass next to her, the corners of her mouth twisting up. 

“Absolutely not,” Zoya said. “I am the Commander-”

“Yes, I know, Commander Nazyalensky, but who’s going to see you laying on the grass?” Alina said, rolling her eyes. “The palace is empty. The guards would never say anything. You think they’d be less scared of you if they saw you being a human for a couple of minutes?”

Zoya thought about it, looking at the fetters on her wrist. Probably not. And if they would, what difference would it make? There was no limit to what she could do now that the doors of her powers had been opened wide. The words of Juris were still fresh and sore in her mind - _stop punishing yourself for being someone with a heart_. How much had she given up to shield herself from suffering? How many simple things she had refused to do to forget the scared little girl inside her, the one thing she could never lay to rest? 

“ _You_ ,” she said, finally laying down on the grass, hair splayed around her head like a black halo, “Will comb my hair after I get up.” 

“Really, Zoya, you should consider _not_ having as much hair as you do,” Alina said. “It _is_ kinda unfair. How come I look like dog shit after yesterday and you still get to look like _this_?”

“If your dress sense had improved, maybe you wouldn't feel so bad,” she said, and the corners of her lips turned slightly up at the crystal-clear sound of Alina’s laugh. It sounded easy in a way things had no right to be, at least not in that moment. 

“I would have gone down there, though,” Alina said. The sky was blue, clouds elbowing themselves out of the way with the breeze. “If I was seventeen again, I would have. And then he’d have me convinced he _did_ change, and he only asked for _one_ chance, and I’d set him free-”

“And then you’d wonder why I wanted to kill you,” Zoya said dryly. 

“I mean, in my defense, I had no idea _why_ you hated me so much,” Alina said. “First you threatened me, _then_ you broke my ribs-”

“I will stand by the decisions I have made,” Zoya said, hands clasped over her stomach, but there was no bite to her words. “But I’ll admit that wasn’t my proudest moment.” 

The anger, the pain and the shame she had felt ever since Alina had summoned light in the Fold were brimming under her skin - when Alina bested her in the sparring ground, it was the last straw for her already wounded pride. She was alone, she was lonely, and she was deeply hurt, but it wasn’t Alina who was poking the bear. 

“I wish I’d understood, then,” Alina said, voice tight, “We barely tolerated each other and yet we still brought him down. Can you imagine if we had been friends from the beginning?”

“He’d never allow that.”

“My point exactly,” Alina said, sighing. “What did he say to you? When Botkin sent you over to see him? Nadia and Marie said you left his office crying.”

“I did _not_ ,” Zoya said immediately, even as she knew it was a lie. She had left his office in tears and reached her quarters in hysterics, and how grateful she was there was no one there to witness it. He took her amplifier, true - that much Alina knew. But it wasn’t just _that_ , although that had been bad enough. The Darkling had a way with words, to build up and to destroy as easily as he’d use the Cut against his enemies; she had been only nineteen, seething in jealousy and pain, lashing out like a wounded animal. She had badly miscalculated the consequences of her actions. The words stuck in her throat, her teeth clenched shut. No one would believe her. 

But Alina had, once. 

And Alina would. 

“He said,” Zoya said, hating herself for the way her voice broke ever so slightly, “That I’d greatly overestimated my importance in his life. That there were people who were meant to be loved, and people who were meant to be used, and I should be content that I was remotely interesting enough to be used. And that- that no stupidity that I could think about doing to _you_ would ever change the fact that I was just someone he used to be satisfied every once in a while.” 

Alina said nothing - the words clung around them, their weight heavy upon their shoulders. Zoya sat up, unable to lay down anymore, nervous fingers picking the strands of grass out from her hair. This was the part that Alina would scoff, say that it was _impossible_ that a man like the Darkling would ever say such a thing; this was the part where she would say that this was all in her mind, that she made it all up, that she was insane-

“That _cruel, cruel_ man,” Alina said, finally, and Zoya turned her head whip-fast at the bitterness and anger in her voice, “He breaks women in like shoes.” 

It was Zoya’s turn to be silent. She felt drained, exhausted - revisiting the memories of her years under the Darkling’s command took out all of her energy in a way using her powers could never hope to do. 

“I thought you knew,” she said, absently. “When you came to my quarters before the Winter Fete, dressed in black and gold. I thought he had told you and you wanted to taunt me.”

“I didn’t,” Alina answered, finally sitting up too. There were twin tear tracks down her cheeks, and Zoya couldn’t help but envy the ease the feelings came to her, and how easy it was for her to let them show, even as Alina wiped off the tears roughly. “Thinking back, that probably wasn’t my proudest moment either.” 

“Genya said it was her idea, and she apologized,” Zoya said and paused, hesitating. “Did he ever say something like that to you?” 

“Nothing that cruel,” Alina pondered. “He did say he was going to kill all that I knew and loved until there was no one left in this world but him.” 

Zoya couldn’t stop the bark of laughter that came out of her throat. 

“That is just ridiculous,” she said, rolling her eyes. “With that penchant for the dramatics, he would’ve made a fine actor if he hadn’t gone for a deranged mass-murderer.”

Alina laughed, but she bit her lower lip, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I know it is,” she said quietly. “But I believed him. I believed he would. And I think-” She paused, eyes on the lake, and licked her lips. They were chapped and dry, probably from the journey to Os Alta. “I think I believe it still.” 

Zoya understood. Because his words were dancing around her head still, years later, even after all the love she had once held for him had turned into a hate so deep it had poisoned the marrow of her bones. Because there was something in her - something she hated, something she wanted to erase, something she wished would just _die_ \- that still believed those words to be true. And _oh_ , how she hated her. How she hated the young girl half-mad with love for a man who never saw her as more than a favorite tool. How she wished she could go back in time and snap herself out of it; tell her that this love would lead only to sorrow, that his attention would cost her all that she held most dear in her life. 

_Stop punishing yourself for being someone with a heart,_ Juris repeated in her head. But she didn’t even know where to start. 

“I should tell Nikolai,” Zoya said, finally. “It’s a liability, and he is owed the truth. As a King. He can’t allow himself the luxury of having his Commander-”

“Zoya, Nikolai owes you the crown on his head and the skin of his back,” Alina said quietly. “I don’t think you owe him any more than that. It hasn’t been a liability yet.”

“The Darkling wasn’t back,” she hissed, and the words were bitter on her lips - she wanted to punch something. Preferably, she wanted to march down the dungeons and punch him on the face, and the only reason why she hadn’t yet was because she knew amusement was the only thing she could pry out of those cold gray eyes. 

“Did he ever leave?”

“He _did,_ ” Zoya snapped. “We threw his body in a pyre. He was supposed to be _dead_.”

Alina let out a dry laugh, raising her hands. There was light coming out of her palms, and her skin seemed to glow alight with power and promise, but her eyes were exhausted. Zoya knew that well. In a way, it felt like she had never been truly rested in her entire life. 

“I wanted to believe it, then,” Alina said. “I forced myself to. And I told Mal, and I told myself, that all the nightmares were just nightmares. I mean, what else could we expect? We were teenagers fighting a war. But sometimes it’d- it’d just be different. It would be like seeing things. I’d see a field of rotting roses-”

“And an army of bees, and amber sap, and a world in a perpetual twilight,” Zoya said, bitterly. Alina’s eyebrows shot up in shock, and Zoya shrugged. “It was where he was being kept.” 

Alina buried her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes and drawing in a shaky breath. 

“I just wish I could sleep well, for once.”

“Genya has a sleeping drought,” Zoya offered. “Nikolai was using it.”

“I’d appreciate it,” she said. “But don’t be too nice to me, it weirds me out. I need some stability in my life.”

“Nikolai’s ego is stable enough,” Zoya waved a hand, “And your dress sense is still garbage.” 

The knot in her chest gave a little when Alina laughed. 

“You don’t have to tell him, you know,” Alina said. “But as someone who loves you-”

“He does _not-_ ” She choked, hands flying up in denial. There was a lump on his throat that she couldn’t force down, and Alina raised an eyebrow. 

“Zoya,” she said softly. “You are way too old to lie to yourself.”

Zoya said nothing, not wanting to give anything away. To live is to grieve, Juris had said. The feeling that she kept locked in her chest threatened to overcome her; a wave crashing on her, dragging her deep into the claws of the ocean. She had grieved so much, and always unwillingly. It seemed insanity to go out chasing grief. 

“Mal once said I could lean on him to keep on going,” Alina continued. “Nikolai leans on you, he trusts you, and he respects you. What are you afraid of?”

“Disbelief,” Zoya said through gritted teeth. 

“If he doesn’t believe the Darkling is a piece of shit after becoming a literal monster because of him, then he’s either lost his mind or he’s not worthy of your loyalty,” Alina shrugged. “Seems pretty straightforward to me. What do you have to lose?”

 _Whatever little I have left_ , she thought. _You cannot protect yourself from suffering_ , Juris had told her, but that’s all she had been doing, all her life, ever since she found her way out of a small chapel in Pachina. Old habits die hard. And if there’s something that she’d learned in this life was that there’s always something left to lose. 

“Men are wicked creatures, Alina,” She sighed, finally. “They take and they take and they take.”

  
  
  


It pained her to say so, but Alina was right - there was something to be said about routine and stability that was enough to keep her grounded. In her case, it was sitting down with Nikolai to look at paperwork; copious amounts of it, since Izaak might’ve _looked_ like the king, but he did not _work_ like the king. Also, their recent expedition to the Fold meant they had to review many of their previous plans and arrangements now that they knew what they knew, which meant even more papers piled high on the desk. 

On normal days, Zoya would be annoyed. But that day, it was a welcome distraction. 

They had been in silence for what seemed like hours - it might’ve been, after all. A servant had come to serve them tea sometime in the afternoon, and her lower back was starting to ache. She was considering getting up to stretch her legs when Nikolai spoke. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Now that you’re asking me permission, I’m not sure you should,” she answered, raising an eyebrow. “If it wasn’t something stupid, you would just ask me straight up.” 

“True,” he conceded, eyes still on the letter in his hands. “But I hope you know _stupid_ , for me, means anything that can get _you_ to turn _me_ into a pile of ash. It has nothing to do with my cognitive capabilities.”

“Because you’re so special, the common usage of words doesn’t apply to you,” she said dryly, signing the report in her hands hastily and pulling another one close with a muffled groan. “You might consider expanding the Grand Palace, your Majesty. We’re running out of space to accommodate your ego.” 

“What can I say, I’m exquisite,” He smiled, and the afternoon sun caught on his hair just so that it gleamed like pure gold, the pale column of his throat colored pale yellow under the sunlight. Zoya knew he was, objectively speaking, a handsome man. But in moments like this, when her eyes caught something so simple, like the veins on the back of his hands, or the straight line of his nose, she felt something she couldn’t describe - and if she were to be honest, she didn’t even want to try. 

“Ask away, then,” she said, instead of doing or saying something reckless and stupid. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way-” he started, and Zoya groaned. “But since when are you friends with Alina?” 

“Since my survival depended on her and she grew something resembling a backbone,” she answered dryly. “I ride to see Alina with Genya and David every year. Do you think I go all the way down to the edge of the world because I enjoy the ride?”

“You enjoyed it with me,” Nikolai said, raising an eyebrow. 

“I tolerated it with you,” she waved a hand. “I think stupid might just mean you lack some brain cells there, your Highness.” 

“Ha-ha, very funny, Nazyalensky,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “I _know_ you are friendly. I didn’t know you were the type of friend to share secrets by the lake.”

She froze, as if she had been a child in the Little Palace and her handlers caught her eavesdropping someone else’s quarters once more. It took a second for her to remember there was nothing wrong about talking to Alina, that there was nothing to fear and, more importantly, that it was none of Nikolai’s business. 

“Is that a problem?” She asked dryly, and he raised his hands in a silent plea for peace. 

“Before you go chase the perimeter for the poor guard who might’ve seen you, it was Genya who told me,” he said. “She wanted to tailor Alina’s hair into something that doesn’t _scream_ Sun Saint and saw the two of you. Said you were working through things for the look of it. I merely got curious.” 

“Curious,” she repeated. He lowered his hands, elbows on the armrest of his chair, and crossed them over his stomach, long legs stretched before him and crossed at the ankles. He was the picture of ease, and she felt like an exposed nerve. _What do you have to lose_? Alina’s voice echoed in her head, and she realized Juris was right in more ways than one. She shunned what she didn’t excel at - the same way her newfound powers had to be honed, tried, experimented, there were other things she needed to test out too. 

One of them, apparently, was Nikolai’s trust. 

If she told him, and he thought she was weak, then he’d lose her respect and know there was no point in following another incompetent Lantsov king. But if he didn’t… 

She realized she didn’t know what would happen if he thought nothing of it. The thought of that terrified her. 

“When we were searching for the firebird,” she said, finally, voice strained and averting his eyes, looking at the sun setting by the lake. “We shared a tent.”

“I don’t suppose you were gossiping until early morning,” Nikolai said. 

“We weren’t,” she said dryly. The truth was far worse - the truth was Zoya being woken out of a nightmare by Alina, eyes wide, wondering where the Darkling was and why was Zoya asking him to leave her alone. It was a rational fear, Zoya knew - after all, they _were_ being chased by the man and his forces. But there was something about that moment, something about Alina admitting she actually was in need of a good cry, something about her exhaustion, about the possibility of death, about the loneliness that she felt and that there was nothing in this world that could fix; maybe all of it, maybe none of it. It didn’t matter. The words left her mouth either way, it didn’t matter the reason. 

What it mattered was that Zoya was tired. And she had turned to Alina and said, _the first time he summoned me to his quarters, I had barely been sixteen._

Alina had reeled back in shock. But was it too far off? When they knew what the Darkling allowed Genya to go through in the hands of the king? They were all pieces in his game, and he had made it abundantly clear that Alina was the Queen, and she was merely a pawn. And yet. And yet. 

_I know you don’t believe me_ , Zoya had said, then.

 _I do_ , Alina had answered, and her hands found her clenched fists and held tightly to her wrists. Her eyes were damp, her hair was beautiful, and Zoya hated her so profoundly, hated her good heart, hated that he had ever shown up and thrown her in that mess, hated that she was grateful for her hands on her arms grounding her to reality. She hated that Alina felt sorry for her. She hated that she paused, looking for words, and then asked her, _what did the Darkling do to you, Zoya?_

She hated that she told her everything. 

Or the short of it, as it was. When Zoya would go visit the Orphanage, there was always a stray memory that she could recount - and she’d tell Alina all of them, wondering if that would be the day that she’d stop believing her. But Alina never did. And one day, drunk out of her mind, Zoya had asked why. 

“Because he did it to me too,” she had muttered, voice low enough that Mal wouldn’t hear. “Maybe not the same things. But this thing that he does, breaking us to own us. He did it to me too.”

She had raised her hands, bereft of any power, and Zoya had understood that this pain they shared was not something to be explained. It was something to be felt. 

Zoya looked at Nikolai, sitting still on his chair, deceivingly relaxed. But she saw his concern on the hard set of his jaw. She had told him about the amplifier. He had bled for her, and she for him. Would it be enough? Would her entire life ever be enough? 

_You are strong enough to survive the fall_ , she remembered. She drew in a sharp breath. 

And took a leap of faith. 

“The worst things the Darkling did to me,” she said hoarsely, “He did before the coup.”

Nikolai said nothing, but stood up in a fluid motion. Zoya held her breath - he couldn’t walk away. He would. He wouldn’t-

But then he walked in her direction, took her hands in his, and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. 

“I see,” he said quietly, voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“I’m- Why are you sorry?” She asked, stunned. 

“I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories,” he shrugged, sheepishly. “It was merely a-” he paused, averting his eyes, looking for the words in his head. “A friendly curiosity. You didn’t have to indulge me.” 

“I didn’t indulge you,” she answered. Her hands were still in his. The place where he had kissed ached as if burned. “I wanted to. This hold he has on me has to go.” 

“He now has a hold on all of us,” he said, pulling her to her feet and, hesitating, brought her closer in a hug, arms winding around her waist. “Don’t kill me.”

“I just might,” she said, but there was no bite. If she leaned her head against his chest, he said nothing about it. “This might’ve been a very stupid move of you”. 

“Maybe,” he admitted, and grinned - boyish and regal all at once. Her heart skipped a beat. “But I’m not a pile of ash yet.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she said, and thanked all the saints he could not hear the fluttering in her chest.

  
  
  
  


The mood around the war table later that evening was, for lack of a better word, gloomy. 

Alina fiddled with her thumbs across the table, hair the color of sunshine in winter. If Zoya closed her eyes, she might’ve ignored the blade hanging over all of their heads - might’ve pretended this was just another dinner at the Orphanage, could’ve imagined the small steps of the children as they sneaked around the room to look at the mighty Grisha and her famed beauty. But as the air seemed difficult to inhale, as the skin of her neck seemed to crawl with uncertainty and anxiety, her illusion lasted for mere seconds; far less than what she needed, but far more than what she could actually afford. 

As it was, and as it had always been, reality seldom had time for infantile wishes for escapism. She had learned that a long time before. 

“Let’s start with the easiest topic,” Nikolai said, pouring himself a generous serving of Kvass. “Ehri.”

“All the Saints above,” Tolya said, letting his head fall in his hands. “We are _so_ fucked.”

Zoya scoffed, humorless. It was true.

“She’s playing music,” Tamar informed them. “All her letters are, obviously, being intercepted. She’s not as great at cryptography as she likes to think she is. And,” She said, rubbing her eyes in a tell-tale sign of exhaustion, “She says she will not marry you.”

“Funny she’s saying that,” Nikolai said, throwing a letter on the table. From where she sat, Zoya saw the royal coat of arms of Shu Han, “Because Shu Han has already accepted my proposal on her behalf.”

Zoya had seen many things in her life. War, cruelty - the pain and the sweetness of being alive, breathing, heart beating in her chest, veins thrumming with blood and power. She had many words at her disposal: scathing words, ruthless words, commanding words. But all of them slipped behind her tongue, down her throat, tangling in a knot in her chest; the pressure feeling like her sternum was caving in and piercing her heart. She knew she’d have to give him away. But the words on paper were crisp and clear as she pulled it closer to her: _The Princess will agree to your proposal_. 

She knew what that feeling was. She had felt it once before, when she saw a scrawny little orphan from Keramzin be brought to the Darkling’s door. The parallel brought a twist to her stomach and she thought, half delirious with want and shame, that maybe this time no one would actually care if she broke two of Ehri’s ribs.

From the corner of her eyes, she felt Genya’s gaze on her, heavy on her shoulders. Zoya was a soldier, seasoned warrior, steel-spined and ruthless. The pressure on the bridge of her nose seemed to slip through her desperate grasp, dancing outside of her control. She had travelled all the way to the Grand Palace with the Darkling’s gaze like an anvil on her back - this was _not_ going to be the last straw. 

But how she wanted to. How she wanted to slip out of the facade, let the armor shed off, hold Nikolai’s beautiful face between her hands, stare deeply at the lazy liquid hazel of his eyes, chase away the loneliness, the sadness, the hurt. _You’ll abandon me_ , she’d say, _and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. And so much time will pass, then, that it’ll all become ordinary and my absence will have no importance. A half-eaten fruit rotting away silently on the plate_ _._

She did none of that. Instead, her breath hitched, ever so slightly, and she pushed the paper away, armor shackled tightly in place, and said, “And how did you manage such a feat?”

The entire room let out a relieved breath. Zoya ignored it. 

“Genya wrote a beautiful letter,” Nikolai said, clearing his throat, “Telling the Shu about the _strange_ things that have happened in the past couple of days”. At Zoya’s raised eyebrow, he waved a hand. “Not about our untimely guest, I’m afraid. But the oddest of occurrences - a soldier, looking very much like they belonged in the Shu army, tried to kidnap my commander.”

“A defector, of course,” Genya said, winking. “Obviously, the Shu Han wouldn’t dream of sending soldiers into Ravkan territory.”

“Obviously,” Zoya said dryly. 

“You managed to end him before he actually did any damage,” Nikolai continued, “But we sent the body of the traitor if they would somehow like to do something with it.”

“The body we did a thorough autopsy on,” Zoya said. 

“And then some,” David said, not raising his eyes from his reading. “We kept a couple pieces.”

“Did you mention that in the letter?” Alina asked, and Genya smiled. 

“No, but they’ll figure out soon enough that we know what they’re up to,” She said. 

“True,” Nikolai said, “But, as you all know, I just couldn’t catch a break, because I nearly got assassinated. _Again_. I suppose I can truly call myself a king now.”

“You’ll need at least two more attempted murders before you can earn the title,” Zoya said, hiding a smirk when he snorted. 

“One down, two to go,” he said, shaking his head. “In any cases, I told them that someone, another defector perhaps, had pretended to be Ehri and attempted to kill me, which in the very least is a major breach of etiquette. But thankfully, and for reasons I did not comprehend, Ehri was hiding as a guard and managed to evade their attempt on _her_ life also. I said I appreciate her ingenuity to keep herself safe in troubled times and would be interested in making her my queen, if they so desired.”

Alina scoffed, combing all of her hair to the side and beginning to braid it. 

“Guess they got the message, after all,” she said.

“But they wouldn’t just _accept_ ,” Zoya pondered. “We have no money, a small army, and more debt than we know what to do with it.”

“But we have the technology and the Kerch support,” Tamar offered. 

“The merchants and a certain master thief,” Nikolai said. “Let’s just say that Privateer Sturmhond decided to branch out and acquire several Jurda farms both in Novy Zem and Kerch, courtesy of a young merchling who was eager to rid himself of his father’s misdoings.” 

Zoya could see it unfold in front of her - the Kerch support. The Jurda farms in Sturmhond’s name - not for profit, but for bargain. The news of the might of their technology, of how advanced Ravka’s army had become in a handful of years. With their most beloved princess receiving an offer to become a queen, Shu Han had little to do other than accept their offer. Clever, ingenious, smart. But…

“This won’t last long,” she said. 

“Good to know I can always count on you for optimism and moral support,” Nikolai said, but nodded. “I just need it to hold until Fjerda attacks. Then, I don’t know. Word is that I am a charming fellow, maybe I’ll convince her eventually. Who wouldn't want to marry me?”

“Alina,” Genya added, and Alina rolled her eyes. 

“Someone had to keep your ego in check and tell you no,” she said, and Zoya didn’t miss the way her eyes jumped between her and Nikolai for a second. “Besides, she already rejected you once. Maybe you’ll find someone else to propose after all this is done, and they will actually say yes. Third time's the charm.”

Zoya felt, not for the first time, an undying need to throttle Alina with her bare hands.

“Maybe,” Nikolai said, and Zoya made a point of not noticing how his eyes flickered in her direction for a split second. “But as of now, since Shu Han accepted, the dowry must be on its way. We have a loan from Kerch. It should be enough to go against the Fjerdans.”

“By the skin of our teeth,” Tolya added.

“We’ve had worse odds.”

“For all Ravka is unlucky,” Alina sighed, “We sure rely on dumb luck a lot.”

They all let out a small, nervous laughter. It was true, was it not? One would expect a country like Ravka would be far more careful than what they actually were. And yet here they were, winging it and praying that it worked out. Maybe they’re not so different from the Barrel thugs Nina found herself involved with after all. 

“We will need to keep Ehri safe”, Nikolai pondered. “Maybe converting her to the saints will make her want to stay, I don’t know. Alina, fancy making a miraculous appearance over breakfast?” 

“Absolutely not,” Alina said dryly. 

“Pity. Unfortunately there are no saints left for me to ask.”

“That is all well and good,” Alina said, finally tying off her braid and throwing it over her shoulder. “But can we address the elephant in the room?” 

There was a silence so tense, one could’ve heard a pin drop in the room. Zoya pulled the kvass closer and took a long swig straight from the bottle. 

“You know what,” Tolya said, grimacing, “I changed my mind. Let’s keep talking about Ehri.”

“The binds will hold him,” David added, eyes on his reading still, but his hand stretched across the table to hold Genya’s hand. She had closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply to keep herself grounded. The Darkling’s presence beneath the castle was a rot threatening to overcome all that they’ve built; crumbling their foundations to dust, the ghost of the nichevo'ya haunting their every thoughts. “For _now_. He never needed his hands to have access to his powers, but he is weakened.”

“Because Yuri’s body is garbage,” Zoya added. “Maybe he won’t be able to hold all of the Darkling’s power in the first place and save us the trouble.”

“That would be possible,” David said. “Or, on the other hand, his power could stabilize his vessel and he could recuperate all of it.”

“Let’s pray for the first one,” Tamar sighed. 

“I said possible, not likely,” David shrugged. “It would be fortunate if it was like that, but I doubt it will.” 

“And, as we’ve established earlier this evening, Ravka has never known fortune a day in her life,” Nikolai said, shaking his head. 

“This discussion is useless,” Alina said dryly. “He is getting stronger because _I_ am getting stronger. That’s all we need to know.”

“Well, we could try poisoning him while he’s still weak,” Zoya offered. “Or stabbing him. Or burning him again. Cutting his head off, hanging him from the battlements, whatever it is. At this point, I’m open to suggestions as long as I’m the one who gets to do it.”

“Get in line,” Genya hissed. 

“No,” Nikolai said. “I said I’m going to use every resource at my disposal to keep Ravka alive and I _meant it,_ even if that includes _him_.”

“And give _him_ the chance to off us all in the meantime,” Zoya snapped.

“If that means that the country is whole and the people are safe, so be it,” he said, but paused, hesitating - he cracked his knuckles, eyes distant. “He is a dangerous thing. Worse than Fjerda. Worse than Shu Han and Jurda Parem. Worse than the debts we cannot pay. And whatever we must do to deal with him will also be the most dangerous thing we’ve ever done.”

“So that means,” Tolya said, carefully, “You have an idea.”

“I do,” he nodded, “And it’s a terrible one.” 

“Well, give my poor nerves a break,” Zoya said. “The suspense is killing me.”

“We will double-cross him.” 

A nervous giggle erupted out of Genya’s throat - when they all looked at her, hand still in David’s grasp, knuckles pale, she giggled again, disbelief all over her face. “You are _kidding_ , right?”

“This is not how you save Ravka,” Zoya said, stunned, “that’s how you get _killed_ , Nikolai.”

Nikolai looked at her, then - and it wasn’t the look of a King in need of a general. This was a man at the end of his rope, waiting for the last supper before walking to the gallows. The realization struck Zoya like lightning: Nikolai wasn’t expecting to survive this. Death settled around him like a mantle, like that old moth-eaten bear fur placed on his shoulders during coronation. That was a falsehood, but this was as real as the sun in the sky and the blood in her veins; she could see Death’s expectant fingers looming over them, hovering in the room. She demanded her fill, but she was patient; they had evaded Death’s grasp far too many times, and how could their still-beating hearts be anything other than a slight against Her might?. Their story would end as all things in her life did: another person gone. Another fight she could not hope to win. 

“What we need,” he said, softly, “Is for the Darkling to believe he has one of us under his thumb. That he has eyes on what we’re planning, and how we’re planning to deal with him. And on the other hand-”

“We’ll feed him the information we need him to know,” Zoya said, reluctantly understanding what he meant. 

“He obviously has a plan,” Nikolai continued, “And whatever it is, it _will_ be dramatic, as we all know. If we could time _his_ dramatic attack with Fjerda’s campaign, that’d give us the element of surprise.” 

“And we will be fighting two different wars at once,” Tamar said. “Two different fronts. What says the Darkling won’t ally with Fjerda?”

“Fjerda hates Grisha too much for that,” Tolya pondered. “If what Zenik reported is even halfway correct, I don’t think he’d side with Fjerda at all.”

“Did we collectively forget that he is a deranged genocidal maniac?” Zoya asked, “Are we really expecting logic out of him?” 

“It’s not logic,” Alina said softly. “It’s anger. A revenge in the making for hundreds of years.”

“We can’t rely on his word,” Nikolai nodded, “But we can rely on his hate.”

“That’s a great plan,” Zoya said sarcastically, “Except he wouldn’t trust any of us as far as he can throw us-”

“Any of _you_ ,” Alina said. “But he’d trust me.” 

“ _You_?” Zoya scoffed, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Alina, you can’t lie to save your life.”

“I don’t need to,” she shrugged. “The tether is getting stronger. He-” She paused, pondering on her words, and swallowed. “I’m his balance. I’m the other half. Why me I still don’t know. But I know that this _thing_ , whatever it is between us- Whatever I say, he’ll understand it as he sees fit,” she said, finally.

“If you get down to the dungeons and he says, I don’t know, that he knew you’d see things his way-” Nikolai said, and Alina nodded. 

“I just wouldn’t correct him at all,” she said. “For better or worse, our bond is beyond your understanding. It’s high time it serves me some purpose other than giving me nightmares.”

Zoya knew hate, alright, but nothing ever came close to how much she loathed herself in that split moment, when she realized that after everything that had happened, after everything she had gone through, there was still a part of her still that was _jealous_ . Jealous that it wasn’t _her_ \- that she’d never have what Alina and the Darkling had. Horrified, she realized that there was still some part of her heart that would forever be a young girl in tears, wondering why she was never good enough to love. 

The thought hit her like a ton of bricks - she visibility recoiled, arms wrapping around herself instinctively. Eyes closed not to see the curious gaze of the entire room on the visceral reaction she had to Alina’s words, she counted in her head. _I am Commander Nazyalensky_ , she repeated to herself as a mantra, as the only thing that could keep herself grounded to that moment and stop her from getting dragged to the belly of her memories, to the horror of her youth, to the Darkling’s words, sweet as honey, burning the words _not good enough to love_ on her skin like acid and fire. _I am Commander Nazyalensky_ . _I am a general. I am a member of the Triumvirate. I am the Storm Witch. I am the Fjerdan Nightmare. All these things are mine, none of them he gave to me. I am strong enough to survive the fall. It was my blood on the snow. He can hang._

“Zoya,” Alina called softly, and she cursed herself for allowing her weakness to show through - allowing everyone to see how the mighty Zoya could crumble with just the reminder that she’d never be _enough_ . “He will never imagine me capable of doing something like that. He thinks I’m _his_ thing, _his_ property, _his_ to do what he sees fit. I want to prove him wrong. I want him to be afraid of me as he is afraid of you.”

“He is _not_ ,” Zoya seethed, “He’s afraid of _nothing_.”

“He is a powerful man, but still a man,” Alina said, “And as all lesser men, he is afraid of all power he could never hope to control.”

The silence was deafening. She could hear her own heartbeat thrumming in her ears, as her eyes catched on the fetters on her wrists. _Stop punishing yourself for being someone with a heart._ How does one teach themselves to be something other than what the world made them?

“I don’t like it,” she said, finally. “I think this idea is dangerous and reckless, and I think that we can find other ways to deal with Fjerda that don’t involve striking a deal with evil incarnate.”

“I don’t think anyone in this room likes anything I’ve said today,” Nikolai said, “Oh, wait. Genya, I think it’d be best if we kept up with the wedding planning.”

“I do like that now,” Genya said, voice trembling, but the small smile she gave them was sincere - and Zoya could never tell how Nikolai could diffuse the tension of a situation that easily when all she wanted to do was to bring down the very heavens in her rage. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm at @lazyuniverses on twitter if you wanna yell at me


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